


For the Dead (and for the Living)

by walking_through_autumn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_through_autumn/pseuds/walking_through_autumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Mikasa hears Eren sing, and one time Levi does. </p><p>Written for a prompt on the SnK Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Dead (and for the Living)

1.

The first time Mikasa hears it, her hands are splattered with blood and her mind is blank. She does not feel anything. The cold is there, it has seeped into her skin and her bones and it's like she’ll never be warm again. But she cannot feel it. She steps away from the body, watching the blood spread, and she does not feel anything.

Slumped against the wall, the boy who had saved her breathes heavily, choking air into his lungs. She thinks she’s supposed to do something. Her hands do not let go of the blade.

Her ears are filled with the sound of rain, falling to earth, soaking into the grass, soaking into her together with the cold. She cannot hear her own breaths, only that of the boy’s – and he becomes quieter. His eyes, capturing the flash of lightning, glows for a moment as he looks at the three dark bodies.

 _They’ll never move again. Like the duck. Like the butterfly,_ she thinks.

The boy stays where he is against the wall but he straightens his back. She sees his mouth open and she watches, uncomprehending. She only hears the rain. He’s making words with his mouth but there’s no sound.

Then he coughs and that shocks her into blinking. Against the backdrop of rain, of water relentlessly pelting the world, she hears in a raspy and thin voice, so unlike the fullness of the rain that it jars her into wakefulness,

_Tearful was the day_  
_From which the ashes will rise_  
_The guilty man is condemned_  
_Have mercy on him, spirits_  
_Our compassionate guardians_

He had screamed with rage and fear when he charged down the second man. His tone was brusque, not unkind, when he had cut the ropes binding her. He had commanded her to fight.

His voice was heartbreakingly beautiful. Timorous, like the young birds that sing her awake. Clear like the bells her mother once tied in her hair.

The boy closes his eyes then and sings, softer and slower,

_The guilty man is condemned_  
_Have mercy on him, spirits_  
_Our compassionate guardians_

There are no guardians in this world, she thinks, because the world does not work that way. Yet she trembles. Her fingers slacken and the knife drops to the ground, smearing blood on the wood.

She watches as tears track its way down the boy’s face and feels the chill of rain all the way to her core.

2.

The second time she hears it, she is with Eren and Armin on a ship, heading to Trost and nowhere all at once. Nowhere they should be.

Eren had tired himself out with his anger and is slumped between her and Armin, his clutch on their arms tight. He had not let them out of his sight for even a second since they had boarded the ship. Armin had gathered the story from Eren’s terrible, burning rage, Mikasa’s silence, and the grim lack of Carla on the ship. There will be bruises left on their arms and they sit there, watching the trees and land and skies. The sunset is unbelievably beautiful.

It starts so low Mikasa almost doesn’t catch it.

_In the stars, the sunsets, memories_  
_I’ll search for your trace_  
_May you be visited by peace_  
_May you drift in a dream_

His voice is still thin and young, Mikasa thinks as she closes her eyes. He does not have the rasp that came from being choked last time, but his notes shake all the same.

_Are you listening, Carla? Mom, Dad?_

Armin leans against Eren, head resting on his shoulder. His eyes are glassy, Mikasa sees when she opens her eyes and looks at him.

_Everything returns one day_  
_Back to the sky where they came from_  
_The peace you’ve waited for_  
_Lies there in the light_

Eren does not bother to hide his tears. Neither does Armin. Mikasa thinks, _Maybe all the tears in me have dried up. Maybe I’m no longer human._ There’s a deep ache in her, something that goes all the way back to when the chill of the rain had seeped into her, but it’s like the gods have taken away her tears together with the joy of her childhood.

She thanks the gods that they’ve left her with a body to feel, so she can look at the bruises on her arm and remember.

_In the stars, sunsets, memories_

Armin joins in on the last refrain. His voice is clogged with tears, nasally, with a hint of his sweet, childish voice. He sings a little too high and maybe he misses the tune sometimes. Mikasa cannot help but think he’ll never sing like Eren does.

But at least he will sing with Eren. Mikasa opens her mouth, but there is only silence in her.

_I’ll search for your…trace…_

Eren chokes then, tears running into his mouth. He closes and opens it helplessly, trying to breathe and sing at the same time. Armin ignores Eren’s grip on him and climbs into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around Eren’s shaking frame. Mikasa places her arm around Armin and holds on to two shaking bodies in a shaking world.

In her mind she prays for sweet dreams to find Carla.

3.

The third time, after the recapturing of Trost, the trial, the decisions that her squad makes to seal their fates, it feels like the first time in an eternity that she sees Eren. Almost all their friends are there, looking at Eren, entrusting their deaths to him, trusting him to make meaning out of this senseless world.

“Marco is dead,” Jean had said, so matter-of-fact Eren had looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before there is a terrible clarity in his eyes.

Later, still under the watch of his senior, Eren walks near the woods, Armin and Mikasa falling into step beside him. The other recruits linger in the area; there is time until they have to assemble with their units, and nobody takes breaks for granted, not anymore.

Eren is quiet for such a long time Mikasa is startled when he says, “Thomas Wagner.”

 _Oh_ , Mikasa thinks. This is like when she found Armin. Mikasa cannot bring herself to be ashamed for feeling relieved that this time, out of the names recited, Eren is not there – he is hurting and alive.

“Nack Teaz, Milius Zermusky, Mina Caroline…Marco Bott.”

Eren turns, looking at Armin first, then Mikasa. “Who knows how many more?” he asks, voice hoarse, the usual glow in his eyes replaced by a haunted, dull edge. “And how many more by the end of – ”

He is with them, but Mikasa feels even if she grasps his arm he will be far away with the deaths and souls weighing upon his shoulders. Will he regenerate then, she wonders. Can the shoulders of a titan heal from the weight of a thousand souls?

He has not been given the Wings of Freedom, she thinks. None of them has.

“Eren,” Armin says without any waver in his voice. He clutches at Eren’s arm. “Eren.”

Eren blinks, looking at the way Armin’s face is pale and tired. They have not been getting much sleep, but they’re not the only ones. “Ah,” he says, shaking his head and looking down at the grass, a small smile on his face. “Yeah.”

Eren had not seen the dead burn, their dust and ashes scattering and blinding them, turning the world gray. Neither had Armin and Mikasa as they witnessed their friend’s, their brother’s, their family’s fate being decided on within cold, gray walls. Near these woods, as they tread on grass far from the destruction of Trost, will the dead give them leave, pardon them for their absence?

He closes his eyes, turns away from them, from all the soldiers murmuring and resting, and tilts his head up to the sky. Beyond the walls the skies stretch. Where do souls go? Mikasa wonders. There’re so many things even Armin’s books cannot explain, things Armin himself never tries to explain.

Eren never explains them. He sings for them, and for the living. He sings in a language so old Mikasa thinks he’s the only one left to sing for them.

_Now they lie in darkness  
Most loyal of fighters_

They take notice. How can they not? It’s a hymn with centuries of magic woven into it, more a chant than anything that can be murmured. His voice has finished cracking, done in the times when he and Jean still argued over stupid things in the mess hall. Now it’s strong, heavy with emotion, silencing even the birdsong and the insects.

It carries through the still air.

_The sound of the harp shall not wake the warrior_  
_Nor shall the man hold a golden wine cup_  
_Nor good hawk swing through the hall_  
_Nor the swift horse stamp in the courtyard_

Beside him Armin whispers the words. Mikasa holds on to her silence, to the ache that has never disappeared for years. She thinks it’ll be there even when she dies, this silence and this ache.

It’s so quiet. It’s so quiet she thinks maybe everyone in Trost can hear.

_An evil death has set forth the noble warrior_  
_A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels_  
_In our world that he is no more_  
_To his lord dearest – and kinsmen most beloved_

The note lingers long after he’s finished. Slowly, the world comes alive again, and the birds sing and the wind whispers through the leaves. In the dying sunlight Eren’s shoulders seem smaller than ever as he places his right hand, palm down, over his heart. An echo of the military salute but softer, lingering, without the force of fists and exclamations. Or perhaps the military salute is but an echo of a history that lasted from before the walls.

Their squadmates are silent. Eren does not say anything either and he walks off, back to the old headquarters, away from them once again.

1.

There’s no longer a need to, yet Eren finds himself sitting in his usual space, as though leaving the other seats empty will invite them back. Levi sits at his usual spot too, drinking his tea, hanging his injured arm over the back of the chair. Eren thinks of getting him to rest it properly, but he cannot speak. Petra would have done a better job of it.

The Commander will be arriving later. Eren wonders where he’ll sit. He thinks briefly of getting them to move to another room, but there is nothing against functionality. Only the ghosts of his mind.

They have fallen silent after Levi had said, neutral tone as always, that there is no knowing the results of his choices.

In his head Eren understands.

He places one hand over his heart, palm down, and he does not care that he is in the presence of his commanding officer, that he does not have the posture for a proper salute.

There is no proper posture for improper deaths.

.

In a room so silent Levi does not have to strain himself to hear it. Eren has always had a habit of making his thoughts known, even the stupid, brash ones. It makes sense that his words are clear even if they’re sung.

Eren stares straight ahead, so Levi does the same and looks at the walls and thinks, _Ah, so the brat can sing_.

_There’s a grief that can’t be spoken_  
_There’s a pain that goes on and on_  
_Empty chairs at empty tables_  
_Now my friends are dead and gone_

It is unlike anything Levi had ever heard of. Within Wall Sina, in the alleys, sometimes he hears a woman singing in the balcony, a sweet tune of contentment. Eren does not know her songs. Levi doubts he knows anything other than what he’s singing, full of grit, with centuries of shared pain haunting him.

_Here they talked of revolution_  
_Here it was they lit the flame_  
_Here they sang about tomorrow_  
_And tomorrow never came_

He remembers a shop with stained glass windows. He remembers slipping into the shop, unnoticed by the shopkeeper, as he stares at the ceiling where the light shines through, painting the floor a hundred shades of green and blue and red, the harsh glare of the sun muted through soft colours. He remembers the silence, as though he were far underground and this is the only light he’ll ever see. He thinks that’s what Eren’s song sounds like.

_Oh my friends, my friends, don’t ask me_  
_What your sacrifice was for_  
_Empty chairs at empty tables_  
_Where my friends will sing no more_

In a world painted by blood and the silver glint of steel, he closes his eyes and wonders if the world Auruo, Erd, Gunter, and Petra see now is any different. If maybe they’ve heard Eren. He’s not a sentimental man but he thinks, for a moment, that this room is heavier, warmer than it should be. But the moment passes. Eren is looking at the table, his hand over his heart, and Levi thinks Eren no longer has the strength to cry. Nobody has the strength left to do so.

Placing his cup on the table, Levi rests his hand over his heart as well and remembers. 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs, with adaptations: 
> 
> 1\. D.Gray-man¸Lala’s Lullaby  
> 2\. 07-Ghost, The Requiem of Raggs  
> 3\. Lord of the Rings, Song for Theodred  
> 4\. Les Miserables, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables


End file.
